Hogwarts Gets Hip
by totemo
Summary: Yo! Ever wondered why peeps in Hogwarts don't use cool slang, dawg? Here's what it could be like... Snape starts! Can be read as a series of short oneshots, but there is a VAGUE plot.
1. Snape's Slang

Disclaimer: I don't own Snape or Harry. Go figure.

A/N: Dear Lord, I am so sorry! I just had to do it. My sister and I were chatting, the image popped into our heads, I had Microsoft Word open… what else could I do? Please send me reviews berating me for my lack of a brain or what have you. Oh, I'll add to this over time, with other people, but with less of me talking. Who will be next?…

Snape's Slang 

Snape stood, arms crossed, glaring at the black haired boy before him. Slowly Harry's eyes rose to meet those of his coolly incensed potions master. He waited for the barbed words he knew would come at any second. Finally…

"WTF are you doing, Mr. Potter?"

"Um…not paying attention to your class?"

There was a long pause.

"LOL. Detention." Harry stared. "OMG, surprised? LMAO."

A/N: I am so, so sorry if you never think of him the same way again. So sorry…


	2. McGonagall, Mon

A/N: Yes, reggae _is_ her preferred type of music, if you were wondering.

McGonagall, Mon

Harry walked into transfigurations, still a little weak and shaky from the terror or his detention with Snape last night. Really, the man must have been possessed, for Harry was sure he would never speak like that voluntarily.

"Alrighty den, you woan't be needin' dem books no moare."

Harry's head snapped up, and was confronted with a sight that made his throat constrict. McGonagall, wearing clothes that she would never even consider usually, and…dreadlocks.

"We is all going to be jammin' today, and I doan't want you all to be stressin' about all de school and dat.""

He squeaked quietly, and ran from the room.

"Eh, wheare is he goin' den, mon? I tink he need to chill aaaaaaht…"


	3. Hagrid, Honey!

A/N: This actually comes from my Dad, who frequently does an impression of this, um, incarnation of Hagrid. It's all good. And the story kind of reads better this way- try it.

Hagrid, Honey 

Breath rasping, Harry ran into Hagrid's hut. He needed _some_ sense that all was as it had been.

Hagrid straightened up from icing some fairy cakes pink.

"Ooh, Harry, you look _gorgeous_ today. Making all the girls sigh, I suppose?" Hagrid giggled. Hang on… giggled.

Oh. Dear. GOD! Harry thought. The world had gone mad. He ran as fast as humanly possible from the small building, hoping fervently that he could forget what he had just witnessed.

"Wait! Harry! I wanted to ask you what moisturiser you use!" called the usually gruff voice of the gamekeeper. Harry whimpered by way of reply.

"Well, bye then, sweetie!"

Harry almost cried.


	4. Narcotic Neville

A/N: sorry, it's been a while, hasn't it? I'll try to do the next one ultra-fast! By the way, should this chapter have a drug-use warning? Hmm…

Narcotic Neville 

Harry staggered to the library, a plan formulating in his mind. Hermione should be in here. _She'd_ know what was going on. It wasn't a brilliant plan, but his mind didn't seem to be functioning properly just now.

Instead of his bushy-haired friend, though, Harry ran into Neville, standing in front of a bookshelf, closed eyes about an inch from the spines.

"Neville? What- what are you doing?" asked Harry, dreading the answer.

Turning to face Harry, Neville opened his eyes. His pupils were slightly dilated. Grinning idiotically he said, "Books, man. They're so trippy. They have so many words, but they can't speak…"

Almost crying once more, Harry burst out, "What is _wrong_ with you? With everybody? Will somebody please tell me what's going on?" He turned melodramatically on his heel and headed to the doors.

"I dunno, dude. Does anyone? Whoa… look at my hands… how can they feel things so well?" Neville reached out and began stroking the books, as Harry's cries of anguish faded into the distance.

A/N: Okay, so there wasn't much slang, but I had to do it. I mean, doesn't it explain why he's so interested in herbology?


	5. Ravin' Ron

A/N: Has anyone seen Spaced? Because this was based on the guy in that…

Ravin' Ron 

Harry scanned the common room frantically, trying to find Hermione. It was filled with people- who were all acting somewhat strangely, now that Harry thought about it- but his bushy-haired friend was nowhere to be found.

He took the stairs to the boys' dormitories two at a time. _Ron will know where she is_, he thought, desperately.

The moment the door was open, though, he knew it was hopeless. Ron, too, had changed. Horribly. He was wearing a fluorescent yellow t-shirt with a huge smiley face emblazoned across it, had a whistle in his mouth, and was holding a glowstick in each hand.

"R-Ron!" gasped Harry. "What in Merlin's name are you wearing?"

The whistle dropped from Ron's mouth as he turned to face Harry, allowing him to reply, "Maaaaaaaate! Alright? C'mon, whack out your glowsticks, let's rave it up!"

"I- I don't have any. Listen, do you know where Hermione is? I need to speak with her. As in, right now."

A drip of rainwater fell to the windowsill, followed by another, and another, creating a steady beat. Ron's head whipped around at the sound.

"C'mon! Sounds like Trash Fashion. I'll have a bit of that…it's a rave Dave, yeah it's a rave Dave…"

Harry left Ron doing what looked like big fish, little fish, cardboard box, and lurched off to look for Hermione himself. _I just hope she knows what's going on_…

A/N: Okies, just for anyone who's wondering…Trash Fashion is a band, whose song It's A Rave, Dave has become the unofficial anthem of the nu-rave fashion movement. Just so you know. It's pretty good, actually…


	6. Hermione Hangs Ten

A/N: I'm starting to feel sorry for Harry now. Well, kind of…

Hermione Hangs Ten 

"I… I give up," Harry wheezed, collapsing against a tree at the edge of the lake. "I can't… go on…"

"Duuuuude… you look, like, totally wiped out," drawled a voice a little off to Harry's left. It sounded like… no. It couldn't be. Harry wouldn't believe it. Damn it, he just wouldn't!

"Seriously, just chill out a bit. Hey, come and catch a few waves with me. It'll be gnarly."

"By Merlin's beard, staff, or other stereotypical objects," Harry breathed. "Her… Hermione?"

She surveyed him languidly as she waxed her board- where she had got _that_ from Harry had no idea- and a grin spread lazily across her face. Her hair fell in wet strands down the back of her rash vest, the top of her wetsuit loose around her hips. She turned towards the smooth surface of the lake, and said, "Yeah."

Harry rose shakily to his feet, thinking _Fine. Something's clearly wrong here… I need to go and find Dumbledore. He'll know what's happening._

"Y'know, those are some pretty grimy waves. Feel like catching a few?"

But Harry was already gone, sprinting towards the castle, pausing only to shout, "I'm Harry Potter! And I _will_ save the world again! Don't worry, Hermione, I'm on it!"

A/N: My my… if everyone else has gone weird, what will Harry turn into? Or has he avoided that terrible fate?? Join us for the next instalment of _Hogwarts Gets Hip_ to find out!! Yeah…

Oh, and I apologise for my abysmal knowledge of slang and the like… I'm just to uncool and English for my own good…


End file.
